was dead. There was no God.
reality echoed within Krelian's mind again and again, combining with the
visions of the fierce collision just seconds before to make for a near
maddening revelation. His heart was broken, his faith was shattered. They
would all live on... Zephyr of Shevat, the brash young Roni Fatima, Lacan
that loathsome painter, and he himself, Krelian. Thanks to Sophia, their
lives were spared; at the cost of her own ultimate sacrifice. Nothing was
left of Nisan, Shevat's gruesome deal was completed. Solaris had won again,
even as it's main command ship was lost.
was the point? All was lost! Their prayers for mercy were cast out to nothing
more but the wind. They had lived on, only to see the horrid reality of
now, Krelian could still see the wreckage of Sophia's great flag ship,
flaming and smoking into nothingness as it's shattered parts fell into
the ocean far below.
massive attack ship had hit it directly as it carred on it's fatal mission,
causing it to ignight with flames by explosion after explosion as its suicidal
collision course drove the Nisan Militia's last and greatest ship onward.
It did not matter either way. Sophia's sacrificed had save this small group's
lives, but thousands more lie dead in the battlefields they had come from.
The massive, blinding ferocity the final explosion was not hardly the climax
to this awful scene... No, not as Krelian had heard it at least...
last fated moments, a voice broke over the radio recieve still clutched
awkwardly by Krelian, even as he stared in disbelief at the scene far above
Sophia's voice... Sophia's calling, barely audiable above the cackling
of static of distance and explosions combined. In all his pleading for
her to stop, to yield, to let he and the rest die, Krelian had gotten
no compliance from the determined pilot of the doomed ship.
pleaded, tried to reason in any way until he was left near tears.... "This
is what I have to do." Was thr only, distant response from his beloved
Sophia, the Holy Mother of Nisan.
final stretch, every cannon of the massive Solarian ship aimed striaght
for it, Nisan's great leader literally staring into the eyes of death
from her set place within the otherwise deserted bridge. She would be alone
in her death, alone in her sacrifice.
had jerked the radio back up upon the very instant her voice broke the
silence. This would be her final message, whether words of wisdom, love,
of the group gathered around him uneasily, putting off the deadly enemy
gears in their grim curiosity. Yet, the gears too were still, pilots watching
the impending impact from their cockpits in what had to be a mixture of
shock, uncertainty, and awe. When at last Sophia's sweet voice broke the
silence over the radio, time itself seemed to come to a halt in an instant
of silent, rapt attention.
would never know those words. Why should it? They meant nothing... Nothing
at all save to two men.
she said was far less general... It was personal, directed to not the group
it self, or the world, but one single person. The words she uttered over
the fading transmission of the radio were far more than enough to freeze
Krelian's very blood in their shattering, heart-wrenching impact upon him.
called out to Krelian himself, she hadn't called out to her many faithful
followers and loves. She hadn't even called out in an oath to God! Instead,
she had called to...
the people, of all her followers, of all her loved ones, she called to
that one simple painter. Krelian hadn't the time to react, nor did any
of the others present. All eyes fell upon the figure of the artist, all
eyes save Krelian's, whose gaze was fixed upon the radio that faintly spat
the final insult to him over a endless droning of crackling and static.
of petty jealousy he had ever had for Lacan, regardless of what lessons
of tolerance and acceptance Sophia had taught him, were amplified a thousand
times over. His blood boiled. His world shattered, his dreams crumbled.
All images of Sophia, her charming grace, her loving smile, crumbled as
if before his very eyes. Worst of all, his fervent love was snuffed out.
She had called to the damned painter!
came crushing down on him, a force that drove his hopes into the corner
of the soul, and made the very ground below seem to melt away. But that
wasn't the end of it. Sophia hadn't finished yet.
Lacan can you hear me?" The painter stepped forward uncertainly, not believing
his own ears even as he relinquished the radio from Krelian's limp hands.
Sophia...? Elly?" How prefectly demure he sounded, some little lost
child humble yet eager to recieve the words of his Mother.
He had called her Elly!! What name was this? Not once, not once in all
the years Krelian had spent with her did he come to know that name. Wretched
titles of formality always accompanied the name Sophia to him, never anything
personal, never anything intimate! God, what had she told him through those
endless painting sessions? What had happened? Why must she love HIM?
undeserving Lacan! Krelian so wanted to tear the radio from the arist's
oily hands, thrust it into the sea far below, and let that be the end of
her damn it! Had she been oblivious the entire time? Did she not see how
he fought for her, swore by her name, stayed by her side through all the
trials Nisan had faced? Did she not see how his feelings had grown and
matured. How he labored to increase his knowledge, faith, and inner
peace, in an effort to prove himself worthy of she and her chosen d